


A Not-So-Perfect Day

by TheOracle



Series: Stormy Skies [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angry Solas, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Gore, Dragon Age Kink Meme, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Meme, Revenge, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 05:10:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3237518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOracle/pseuds/TheOracle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asked to deal with some bandit troubles in a nearby village, the Inquisitor and her companions find themselves caught in an unexpected trap. </p><p>Part of the Stormy Skies series.</p><p>Warning: Attempted Non-Con and some really graphic depictions of gore/violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Something wasn't right. She had known it within a few minutes of walking around the village. People shuffled, heads bowed, avoiding eye contact as though they were blight riddle rats and not the fabled Inquisition. Varric, Solas and Bull walked alongside her and she could tell by their faces that they sensed it too. Something was definitely wrong here.

"As you can see, everything's fine now. We're just trying to get on with our lives in peace. Not that we aren't grateful for your concern of course!" The village leader, a man who called himself Wheatson, flashed her a smile that was just a little too wide and never touched his eyes.

"Well, we're just glad that everything is settled and back to normal for you." Gayle returned his smile. "When we heard that there had been some bandit trouble in the area, we were concerned that your village would be an obvious target. Actually..."

She trailed off as she stared around the small thatched huts and noted the number compared to the handful of people scattered around. There should have been far more villagers going about their business, especially on such a clear, warm day.

"Actually?" Wheatson echoed nervously. Gayle turned back to him and flashed another smile, hoping she had quickly masked any concern in her features.

"Oh, nothing. It's just been such a long trek from our camp to here and with the sun..." She gestured upwards to the wide stretch of blue sky above her. "You don't happen to have a stream nearby where we could cool down before heading back, do you?"

"Ah..." he paused, mouth open and face squinted against the glare of the sun. He didn't want them here, she knew, he wanted them out of the village as soon as possible.

"We won't be long." Gayle cut his awkward pause off with another smile. "Just a quick scrub and we'll be on our merry way." God, I've become an expert at lying. At this rate, I'll have the title of "Thedas's Biggest Fibber" to go with all my other ones. Wheatson seemed to relax a little at this and then nodded his head off into the direction of a few drooping willows.

"There's a small stream just behind those trees, should do the trick. I'll eh, well I'd be obliged if you didn't bother any of our folks. We're a quiet little village, not use to such..." at this he looked over the party of men behind her, taking some extra time to absorb Bull's immensity. She could almost see the big shit eating grin on Bull's face, even with her back turned to him.

"Such...?" Gah, she was worse than Bull and Varric put together sometimes.

"Ah, such esteemed and worldly travellers." he quickly recovered, flushing a little. "If you have any questions before you leave, I'll be here to answer them, if you please."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary. Good day to you." Gayle flashed another beaming smile and turned in the direction Wheatson had indicated.

"And to you." she heard him reply as she walked away.

"Boss?" Bull took a few strides until he was keeping pace beside her, his huge body shadowing her own.

"I know." She didn't need to say anything else. There really wasn't any need for words. The months of travelling together, fighting together, eating and arguing and living in each others pockets had forged a strange telepathic unity. They were all on the same page and it had DODGY written across it in bold. As she approached the small sliver of water that cut a pebbled line through the trees, she hunched down at it's edge, dropping her pack as she proceeded to lap cool water onto her forearms. Bull hung back while Varric and Solas flanked her, the former scooping up a handful of water and rubbing it round his neckline as the latter squatting down beside her, trailing his fingers through the rippling stream.

"So Stormy, what's the plan?" Varric asked, shifting Bianca on his back as he stood up.

Gayle looked out across the water, feeling a sudden reluctance build up in her chest. Today had been near perfect day for her. Bright sun, warm but not stifling. They hadn't met any resistance on the roads. They'd even managed to eat their lunch in a small sunlit clearing, adding a few sweet berries they'd picked into the dry rations. Everyone had been in a good mood, no sniping or bickering, just the occasional joke as they wandered towards the village at an easy pace. At one point, as they walked, Solas had clipped a few pale yellow flowers from the grass and, keeping an easy stride beside her, he weaved them through a braid in Gayle's hair. The look in his eyes at that moment, taking in the effect of his handy work, and the way his hand lingered against her neck, stole a golden warmth through her body that outmatched the gentle sun. She had been tempted to set up camp outside the village, to take the evening off and enjoy the blissful peace while it lasted. It was never truly an option though, no matter how much she longed for it. The Anchor had marked for her a path of Strife and not Idleness, so they had continued on, winding through the simple lodgings and muddied paths of Willowdown.

"Vhenan?" Solas drew her back into the moment. She met his blue eyes briefly and then rose and turned back towards the village, Bull's level gaze finding hers as he waited for orders.

"Lets see what they're hiding."

Varric chuckled beside her and Bull flashed her a mischievous grin. Gayle really wished that she could keep her daggers safely sheathed for just one day, but something told her that they'd be hilt deep in someone's chest before nightfall.

They kept to the trees as they skirted round the village, ready for an ambush and eager to lose any following eyes. Through brackets of spiny gorse, they spotted a large barn, sealed off on all sides. Bull indicated towards it with a small flick of his horns, his fingers already twitching with anticipation. Gayle held back though, keeping low and close to the treeline, happy to watch and wait for an opportunity. One quickly presented itself as Wheatson, at a near frantic run, made towards one of the side doors. Sliding quietly out of from the foliage and rushing up behind him, Gayle jammed one foot in the door as he tried to close it, pushing her body through the small gap as she cleared her throat.

"Uh..Wheatson I was just...shit."

As Wheatson stumbled aside, she was met with well over two dozen hardened glares fixed on her face. A heartbeat was all that she needed to realise her position and the bandits seemed to cotton on just as quick.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of swearing. I like writing curse words. It's oddly satisfying.

"Shit!" Gayle shouted again, as the first man lunged forward, sword arching towards her in a down swing. At the same moment, she heard a loud slam and crack of splintered wood behind her, Bull's bellowing roar and then the twang of Bianca as an arrow appeared in her attacker's throat. She dodged to the side as the bandit slammed into the floor, her daggers already in hand as a wave of bodies and glinting metal threatened to hem her in. Ducking low, she avoided a gauntleted arm aimed at her face and twisting, she sunk her right blade into it's owner's back, angling up so as to puncture his lung. She didn't wait to see the result of her strike and as she pulled her dagger back with a sickening squelch, she was already swiping her left blade towards a pair of oncoming calves.

Whoever they belonged to though, he was quicker than her and with a sharp kick catching her wrist, Gayle felt the handle jolt from her grip, pain searing over her left hand and up her arm. As the force of the blow swung her round, she recovered enough to slash her right dagger out in the hope of severing the ligaments in his lower thigh, but like a viper, her assailant turned and snatched her hand mid swing, yanking her arm up as he moved behind her, tearing the knife from her grasp even as she felt a thick arm circle her neck. Before the blade point came to rest against her throat, Gayle felt a cool tingle as Solas slipped a barrier spell over her, clinging close to her body like a second skin. She felt the cold metal hard against her exposed neck even as a rasping voice shouted beside her ear.

"Stop! None of you bastards move or I swear I'll slit her bloody throat." Silence met this and Gayle felt a second hand slide over her scalp, fisting painfully into her hair and yanking her head back, using it to steer her round to face her companions. She had to strain her eyes to make them out, given the jarring angle her head was held at. Bull had already lowered his greatsword, letting the hilt fall to the ground with a hollow _thunk_. Varric still held Bianca, but his arm slackened and she drooped down to point at the floor. Gayle could practically feel the magic ripple around Solas but she couldn't look at his face. She knew what she'd see there, what she would see in all of their eyes. Fear and defeat. Fuck was the only coherent thought she could muster. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

"Drop your fucking weapons. Now!" her captor growled from behind. Gayle closed her eyes, trying to calm her hammering heart, scrambling for a way to get them out of this alive. She wouldn't be able to fight her way out, that was obvious. So she needed to talk them round, she needed to stay calm and find a way to negotiate terms of release. She just had to find the right angle, pry out their weak spots and exploit them. As she tried to form the right opening words in her head, she felt the pointed tip of the dagger push up further into her throat.

"I said drop the fucking staff, knife ears." Solas's power wrapped itself even tighter around her, a pulsing embrace that hummed with his energy. Gayle's eyes flew open, searching for his. They were coal black, his face twisted with fury as he held on to his staff with a white knuckled grip. The man behind her snorted in derision after a moment, and she wondered how he didn't piss himself with fear. Solas was giving him a look that should have sent him to his knees.

"Barrier spell, eh?" the man chuckled. "How about we have a little test, elf? My dagger against your magic. See, I'll thrust my blade into your little saviours skull and you find a way to stop me. How about it?" His voice dripped venom on those last words and Gayle watched as Solas's frown deepened, his eyes wavered and then he let his staff drop to the ground beside Bianca.

"Good." She could feel her captor's satisfied smirk through the words. "You'll wanna drop you're little spell too, before I change my mind." After a beat, she felt the barrier slide from her, the protected flesh on her throat suddenly exposed to the sharp tip of the dagger. Gayle bit back a yelp as the the cold metal pierce her skin and a trickle of wetness ran down to soak into her collar.

"Search em! And if any of you bastards so much as twitch, I'll spill the rest of her blood on this fucking floor, understand?" The leader, as he appeared to be, hauled Gayle's head back, tearing viciously at her hair as though punctuating his instructions.

"Get some damn rope and tie them up. Tie that big fucker to the main support beam and put the other two beside him. Oh and get that nullification rune from my pack. Knew I'd need that some day." As he barked the orders he dragged her backwards into the crowd of bandits, each step jolting the knife deeper into her flesh. She could hear the scrabble of feet around her, shifting bodies blurring what little she could see. Wheatson's voice startled her a little, approaching to her left.

"I tried..." he was pleading, his voice little more than a whine. "Please, oh please, I was coming to tell you. I asked them to leave. I did everything I could! Don't hurt them, please don't hurt our daughters."

Crap, more hostages. Probably kids too. She tried to shift her head to get a better look at her surroundings, hoping to see if she could catch a glimpse of other captives. All she could see was men. Some were young, with a lean, sunken look to them. Others were much older, bearded and lined, scarred faces and tarnished armour. The tension in the air was palpable and Gayle wasn't sure if it was with fear or anticipation. Maybe both. Underneath it all, Solas's magic crackled and hummed. The combination was stifling.

"Shut your fool mouth. I couldn't give a toss for your apologies. Get out of my sight, crawl back into the hole you came from and tell your people not to step foot out their doors till I say. If they do, I'll gut their little darlings and hang them from the rafters. Now go." A whimper was the only reply to this.

"You'll be wanting to talk coin, I presume?" She tried to keep her voice steady, speaking through gritted teeth so as not to drive the dagger deeper into her throat. There was a pause, a huff of breath and then she felt her knees knocked out from under her. Falling forward, Gayle's hands shot out as her palms hit the dirt. The knife was pulled from her throat before it could skewer her, a shallow cut marking it's retreat. There was a warmer flood of wetness and a burning flare of pain, but she could still swallow, could still breath. She closed her eyes and let her head drop, trying to stop the room from shifting.

"What I want, is for you to shut your fucking mouth. Bind her hands and search her."

Gayle's arms were pulled from under her and twisted back painfully behind her. She tried to keep her balance but couldn't, tipping forward until her forehead met the floor with a dull thunk. As if in echo, the ground shuddered beneath her again and she heard Bull growl a curse, not far in front of her. Cord bit roughly into her gathered wrists, pinching skin and squeezing bone. Shuffling her knees forwards a little, she gained enough balance to look up.

Solas, Bull and Varric were about fifteen feet in front of Gayle, all of them on their knees and facing her, hands tied behind them. Bull was in the centre, thick ropes binding his chest and arms to a large post that supported the barn's crossbeam and roof. A few paces to either side knelt Solas and Varric, backs bound to long wooden stakes, meant more for securing livestock than captives. Bull was huffing, his muscles and chest swelling and straining against the ropes. Varric had fixed a dark, unblinking glare on whoever was behind her. Gayle took a second to brace herself before her eyes fell on Solas. He was looking straight at her. His expression was frightening, almost feral with anger. His eyes, usually a gentle blue, were now dark and wild, and his teeth were bared in a savage snarl. The air flickered with power around him.

A body shifted in between them, hiding Solas from her. She instinctively lunged forward against the hands that were scouring her armour but they dug deep into her flesh, hauling her back. A heavy foot suddenly connected with her left side, the impact sucking the air from her lungs. Gayle's head hit the dirt again, keeping her from toppling over and she gasped down a cry as the pain flared in her ribs and chest, thrumming through her head. Bull spat out what sounded like curses in a foreign language, the ground shaking under his straining limbs.

"So this is the famous Herald of Andraste." The air suddenly didn't seem so suffocating any more and Gayle greedily gulped the breath back into her body. Lights flared and danced against her eyelids as she tried to focus through the pain. The situation was taking a rapid nose dive from bad to worse and Gayle had a very clear and horrifying idea of where it was headed. She pushed the thought away, even as fear coiled in her stomach, and she focused on the people bound on their knees in front of her. Gayle knew she was safe, or at least, unlikely to be killed. A Tal-Vashoth, surface Dwarf and an apostate Elvhen Mage, however, would be considered next to worthless. There was nothing keeping them alive, save their captor's whim, and Gayle couldn't risk it.

"I'll pay whatever ransom you demand for the release of my men." Her voice was a breathless rasp, but there was little she could do about it.

"I don't give a damn for your men and you're not in a position to pay me anything. What you are, is on your knees at my feet. What you'll do, is anything I fucking say. We're going to get so much gold for your release, we could buy Halamshiral and have Empress Celene suck our cocks for the rest of our bloody lives." A rumble of laughter crept around room, the bandits obviously approving of the idea.

"I control the Inquisition. I control it's coffers. They won't send you a copper for my release. They will, however, unleash a sea of Inquisition forces to flood this area until you're trapped and drowning in blood and steel." Gayle was surprised at her own eloquence, considering she was bound and bleeding on the dirt floor of a barn. She raised herself up again, twisting her head to look at the man behind her. He wasn't as tall as she had thought, or as old. If anything, he was disappointingly plain, an unexceptional face under a heavy crop of brown stubble.

"Is that a threat?" his eyes narrowed.

"It's the truth. I'll authorise payment for my men. I'll demand the withdrawal of my troops. You can keep me as collateral until you have the money. If you kill them, you'll get nothing but death, I promise you."

"Like hell they'll keep you." Varric barked. The leader didn't take his eyes from Gayle's.

"That's an interesting offer. Not sure that you would be worth keeping around though, but maybe I can think of something to do with you." With that, he lunged forward, pressing the full weight of his body against hers, pushing her head into the ground. His right arm groped across her chest, a large hand grabbing and mercilessly crushing her left breast. His other hand jammed itself roughly between her legs. He used his grip on her to pull her up straight, brushing his stubble against her cheek, forcing her to look at her friends while he rutted against her. Gayle's hair fell loose and messy over her face and she recognised the little yellow flowers, now broken and bruised, tangled in the strands.

Bull was buckling against the post that held him and the beams overhead shuddered and creaked in protest. His face was flushed red and covered with sweat, each scar vivid white against his skin. The two men on guard behind him looked nervous, but neither seemed brave enough to do anything. Varric had closed his eyes and dropped his face to the ground, his features pulled tight and his jaw pulsing. Gayle couldn't bring herself to look at Solas. She couldn't feel his magic in the air anymore and she knew that the nullification rune that now hung from his neck must have worked. She was afraid to meet his eyes, afraid of what she would see there.

"If Andraste is our Maker's bride...what are you? His whore?" Her captor spat the words against her ear as he tried to work his hand into her leather trousers. Another wave of laughter swept through the barn and Gayle could feel fear loosen the muscles in her bladder. She clamped down tight, digging her nails into the palm of her hand. She swore to herself that she wouldn't make a sound, that she wouldn't give them any satisfaction by seeing her fear. His hand pressed against her smalls, roughly cupping and prodding at her entrance through the material.

"Do you think they'll take you back once we're done with you? Do you think they'll still want to raise you up as their saviour once we've used you..." he pulled his hand from her trousers at this, grabbing Gayle by the hair and throwing her face first into the ground.

"Broken you..." His fingers dug into her hips, hauling her back onto her knees and parting them. She scrabbled, cheek and shoulder pressed into the dirt, fingers scraping against the top of her boots, catching on the metal clasps. That's when the panic clouding her mind cleared for a moment and she remembered Harritt presenting her new, tailored boots to her months ago, his eyes creased and his face glowing with pride. _'A rogue can never have to many blades, right?"_ he had said to her with a wink.

"Each of your sainted little holes dripping with our seed..." A sharp flash of pain as metal dug through her leather armour, biting into the skin over her tail-bone. Fingers grabbed at the tear, ripping apart the seam of her trousers, shredding through her underclothes as her crotch was exposed. The air crackled over her sweat soaked skin as desperate panic tore through her, setting her nerves alight and crawling through her stomach like maggots. Gayle's hands shook as she grabbed at her boot buckles, pulling each frantically as she worked her way up the leather, praying that the blade hadn't been found during the search, praying that Harritt was as skilled as she knew him to be. As she reach the last few buckles, one of them loosened as she tugged and a faint stir of hope caught her breath.

The sound of leather and cloth hitting the floor behind her told her she was out of time. Her breath hitched, the air tasting of sweat and dirt and the electric tingle of ozone. She had to distract him. She wouldn't get another chance to escape. So she gave him what he wanted. Gayle let her terror boil up out of her chest, letting the desperate panic and despair grip her throat and prick pain in her eyes. She sobbed and gasped and strained against her bindings as her face ground into the dirt. She hated to do it, knowing that it would kill her friends to see her like this but there was no other choice.

"Don't...please...I beg you, I beg you....oh please. Have mercy. Don't. I...oh God, help me...help me."

She didn't need to act, to fake her tight and cracking voice, the words choking around a sob. She wasn't sure if it was from the pain of her twisted muscles or the fear deep in her stomach but it felt like the room was crowding in around her, pulsing and thrumming in her ears and against her body. Her captor pressed over her again, his heavy weight sinking against her back, hot breath tickling her ear as she felt his hips shift under her own. He shifted again and she felt the hard press of his swollen member against her entrance. Squirming and sobbing, she drew the knife from it's sheath, turning her wrist as much as she could until the edge lay at an angle to her bindings.

"Scream for me, Herald"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, time for gore. You have been warned!

Instead, Gayle dragged the blade across her cords as hard as she could. The razor edge cut through them faster than she could believe and the sharp tip caught the skin above her wrist, carving a deep arch through her flesh. She ignored it and darted her hands up, grabbing the base of her tormentor's cock and slicing it clean off his body. His yelp of surprised turned into a scream as she felt blood spray across her and she rolled to the side, dropping the heavy flesh as she scrabbled to her feet. The air popped and then a flash of white burned her eyes. There was shouting and clamouring behind her as she ran blindly towards Solas. She knew it was his magic, she could sense it swirl around her as she ran. Everything plunged into a thick, inky darkness and she heard him call to her.

"Ma vhenan." He was so close. Gayle felt someone stumble towards her before she could see them, clumsy as he shouted and swore in the dark. Brushing past her shoulder, she lashed up, stabbing through his armour and into flesh. He cried and flailed to the ground as she pulled out her blade and shuffled forward. She hit a wall of static first, her skin prickling against it, and she pushed through until her shoulder met a familiar, solid warmth.

"Ma lath, shem." Solas urged as she gently followed the path down his arm, round the post and to his hands. The barn was filled with shouting and cursing now, feet pounding in their direction as she sawed through the rope at his wrists. His hands slid from her grasp as soon as he was free, a snap and something heavy landed next to her knees. A wave of magic, like the rolling head of a gathering storm, broke and ran through the room. Lightning pierced the swirling blackness and Gayle could briefly make out Bulls shape against the post. A scream swallowed the brief light as everything went dark again and she crawled the few steps to him, her forehead hitting off his biceps. Bull's bindings were thicker, wound around his chest and arms, but she worked through them as fast as she could. Another flash of lightning showed her only half way through, but that was all Bull needed. With a flex and a roar, he tore through the rest as he struggled up and dove into the darkness.

Now it really was chaos. Lightning streaked and split the air every few seconds, screams and cries and the crash of metal and feet echoed against the walls and thrummed through the floor. Gayle couldn't see Varric, his post bare save for the rope cuttings and panic gripped her even as her head swam with faintness. She looked for him, and found him at the wall, one guard dropping to his knees over his dead comrade, hands desperately trying to hold back his spilling innards. Then Varric was gone too, head first into the growing massacre.

Gayle slumped down against the post, her left arm now useless and slippery with blood, her right still clutching her blade in a death grip. Much of the dark smoke had begun to dissipate and she could see Solas stroll through the room towards the fleeing men. He had a bright steel sword in his right hand, his left crackled with electricity. His back was to her and she watched as he cut down a bandit who ran at him, barely breaking his stride as he slashed a gaping red wound across the man's chest.

Bull roared from the far side as five men tried to corner him. His huge chest was already soaked with blood, body parts strewn around the floor at his feet. Lashing out, one massive fist connected with a bandit's torso, caving it in as he flew through the air with the impact. The other clamped over a smaller man's shoulder as Bull's second clawed hand dug in at his neck, and Gayle watched in horror as Bull tore the man's sternum in two. The thick ripping noise of flesh and the sight of snapping tendons, veins and bones pulled the bile up from Gayle's stomach, through her throat and then onto the ground as she wretched and coughed.

"No no no no no." she quietly gasped to the soiled floor. She didn't care about the bandits, she could find no pity in herself for them, but she was frightened for her friends. Bull's greatest fear was slipping into madness, and now with the frenzy of blood-lust in him, he was teetering on the edge. Solas and Varric too, prided themselves on their level heads and restraint. Gayle watched as Varric reduced a man's face to pulp with his fist, gore and blood covering his clothes and hair.

Someone managed to open one of the main barn doors and light flooded in. The survivors, reduced to terrified wrecks, bolted for freedom. There was a loud whoosh and a snap as Solas suddenly appeared in the doorway, the sunlight casting a relief of his silhouette against the village behind it. As he grabbed the escapee by the throat, a wreath of flames burst around his feet, licking up the wooden door frame and cutting off any chance of leaving. The man clawed and kicked as Solas turned his eyes to regard him, his teeth still bared in a feral snarl, the black of his eyes now lit with fire. She watched as the bandit struggled and screamed as his skin began to blister and peel. Gayle realised too late that Solas was burning him from the inside out, nothing but embers pouring from the man's mouth as his body blackened and cracked before crumbling through merciless fingers to the ground.

Gayle clambered unsteadily to her feet. She was exhausted and weak, her stomach heaving at the clawing stench of blood and shit and brimstone in her nose and throat. She weaved, sliding on something that squelched sickeningly underfoot as she stumbled towards Varric, who was stalking menacingly towards a group of men huddled in a stall. She shouted his name but her voice was lost in the mayhem. She needed him, she needed her Varric back before he lost himself. She shouted his name again, louder this time, too loudly and her throat clenched in dry pain with the effort. He turned at the sound and their eyes met.

What a picture she must have been to him, stood there drenched in blood and vomit, breeches torn open along the crotch _._ It really must have been a shocking sight as Varric's eyes softened the moment he saw her and he turned to run back. Gayle shook her head and raised her good arm, directing him to the far corner as she mouthed "Bull. Stop Bull." Varric hesitated for a second, unsure and then nodded, running over to the slaughterhouse Bull had created around himself. Varric would calm him, would reign Bull in and ground him. She knew she could trust him. Solas on the other hand, was an entirely different challenge.

As she turned towards the Mage, Gayle wondered if she could even get through to him now. His face was a mask of fury as he cut down anyone who approached him. The barn still flashed with forks of lightning, each one finding a target. The few left alive had given up any thought of fighting. Many just skittered around the walls like cockroaches, scrabbling on the wood trying to find an escape or something to hide under. One man flung himself at her feet as she cut a path towards the fiery figure of Solas in the doorway. The bandit was begging, crying the Maker's name as he grasped for her ankles, pleading mercy.

Another crack in the air, a pulse of magic and Gayle watched as a glint of steel separated the man's head from his body in a fountain of blood. Turning, she saw that Solas was right beside her, his magic creating a looming shadow around him that blocked out the light. He didn't look at her, his eyes were still glaring at the headless corpse at her feet. If she didn't know better, Gayle would have sworn that he looked like the embodiment of Vengeance at that moment, the Harbinger of Death made flesh, beautiful and terrible. She shuffled, one step, then another towards him until her face came to rest against the fur trim that hung from his shoulder to his belt. She greedily sucked in the scent of fur and fire and skin, trying to clear her head of the stench around them.

"Stop."

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo sorry that this has taken me ages to get round to. Came down with a lovely bout of Shingles, which had me wanting to tear my skin off for a few months. I find this impedes writing greatly. Please accept my apologies and offer of another chapter. And cake! Virtual mind-cake. I'm sending it to you right now!

"Stop"

It was little more than a whisper and she didn't know if he could hear her. Gayle mumbled it again, just as her legs declined to supporting her weight and she crumpled down his body towards the floor. A clank of metal and then Solas's strong arms were around her, hands crushing her against his chest. She felt one arm slide under her knees as he gently bore her up, his soft voice whispering unknown words against her hair.

“Is she alright?” Bull sounded so close, his voice deep and hoarse. Gayle wanted to reach out and touch him, let him know that it was all okay. She was just so tired though. An irresistible weight had started to seep through her bones, pulling her down into the wonderful, fuzzy darkness.

“Amokay” she managed to mumble as Solas shifted her weight and she felt him move.

“Find our healing salves. All of them. And cloth. Now!” he barked above her. Gayle felt the sudden press of unbearable heat all around, the crackling lick of flames at her feet and then it disappeared, replaced by wonderful, clean, untainted air all around. Turning her face a little, Gayle filled her nose with it. If she tried to, she could almost believe nothing had happened, that it was all a dream and she was waking up in her tent, Solas's warmth soothing away the nightmare. Just a few more moments, that was all she needed and then merciful sleep would take her. Just on the edge of conciousness, she heard the rumbling splash of water and then a cold, icy wetness dragged her whimpering back into reality.

It took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the bright glare of the lowering sun glittering off the stream that surrounded her. Solas had waded into the deepest part of the river and in one fluid motion he knelt, submerging them both to the waist. The cold shock tore a gasp from her throat, wetness seeping into in her ruined trousers. Cradling her on his lap, Solas gently smoothed handfuls of water down her face, over the aching throb of her throat and across the bloodied mess of her arms. She stared up at him, his face pulled tight in concentration as more of her skin was revealed under the crusted gore. His pale skin was streaked with sweat, grey ash smeared and clinging to his brow and cheeks, little spatters of blood peppering along his jaw. His eyes had returned to their rich, smoky blue. After a few moments, Solas met her stare, the reflected light of the sparkling river around them wavering and flashing in the deep pools of his gaze. Oh, she could drink in the sight of him like that forever; sharp features softened, every feeling open and unguarded as they shifted across his face. They just sat like that, as the stream and time trickled past them, each lost in the depth of the other and what they could have so nearly lost.

The sound of thrashing water drew them back as Varric waded across the stream, circling round Solas to hunch down beside her. He looked a mess; almost completely covered in tacky, dark blood and dirt. Only a few patches of skin and leather could be identified through it all, his face smeared and marked like some grotesque form of camouflage. Bianca was safely strapped on his back again. A leather healer's bag was tucked under one arm and the other held out a glass vial, filled with a familiar green liquid. Elfroot tasted similar to dandelion; green, bitter and astringent, and when condensed into a potion, both the healing effects and flavour were infinitely stronger. Usually she would have to choke it down, fighting against her gag reflex to keep it in her throat. Now, the grassy tang was almost welcome, cutting through the grim taste of dirt and bile and death that already coated her mouth.

"Hey Stormy, how you feelin'?" Varric rested a heavy hand on top of her head, his eyes filled with worry. She gave him a weak smile, trying to reassure as much as she was able, but the medicine was already kicking in, along with it's unfortunate side effects. The healing potions that they carried were the most effective available. Whether it was by magic or some property of the combined herbs, the concoction seemed to increase the bodies healing rate tenfold. While it was ineffective alone against broken bones or severely damaged organs and tissue, it was ideal for cuts and gashes, quickly stopping the blood flow and scabbing over the area. The downside was that it seemed to set every damaged nerve in the body on fire. Quickly, the dull ache in her throat and arm, along her sides and down her back, had begun to flare in agony. Gayle bit her lip, face scrunching up as she tried to fight the urge to scream.

"Varric, set up a fire and look out the bandages and salves. I must quickly dress her wounds." And with that Solas raised them both from the river, splashing a way towards the bank before settling on a clearing amongst the willows. She was carefully laid down onto her back, nimble hands stripping away her leathers till she was all but fully exposed. Varric had unceremoniously tipped the contents of the bag onto the ground beside them, the loud clatter jarring through Gayle's head while her muscles began to seize and spasm with pain. She closed her eyes against the wavering branches and dappled leaves above while hands pressed her bucking torso to the ground. Voices murmured gentle reassurance, melding together until she couldn't distinguish one from another. Then light fingers smoothed something cool and wet over each wound and the relief was so instantaneous, it was almost euphoric. One by one, the wildfires blazing through her body were quenched and with each sigh of relief, Gayle felt the welcoming oblivion of unconsciousness tug at the edges of her mind. Her awareness slipped and blurred into nothingness and just before she was consumed, gentle lips ghosted over her brow.

"Sleep, my heart. You're safe." 


End file.
